I got up early today, walked the dog, and then hustled over to Wegmans to get my wife the Mother's Day card I should have bought days ago. In the greeting card section, I found myself amid a restless crowd of husbands, almost all of us between, say, 45 and 60, almost all of us trying to come up with just the right card for our wives.

"If I hurry up," one man said, "I can have the card on the table before she gets up."

We nodded collectively, and then continued to stare at the field of picked-over cards. Many had flowered patterns and over-the-top romantic messages, which our wives might have loved, but we couldn't bring ourselves to buy - "You were beautiful when I met you, and you are more beautiful today, and without you as my wife my life would lose all meaning."

Ack. Very nice, but no thanks. Then there were all the stupid gag jokes with double entendres about sex, which is the last thing any wise husband gives his wife on a day on which she is supposed to get some space, especially when she already suspects you think only of one thing. Or two things, counting Little League.

What we all wanted, and what they don't make, is a card that goes something like this: